Chips was trying America again; Saunders had his broad, V-shaped back turned away from them as he spoke into the phone. Nasreen had found the school caretaker’s mobile number from a previous burglary reported at the school. She had the phone in her hand when the door flew open and Freddie careered in. ‘I knew it! I knew I recognised her!’
She didn’t want to deal with Freddie’s impulsiveness right now.
‘She’s the YouTuber!’ Freddie collided with her desk, and the pile of papers she’d been looking through tipped and scattered across the floor.
‘Careful!’ She bent to pick up the papers. It was like having a Labrador puppy in the office. Her back ached.
Freddie was right in her face. ‘Nas, will you listen to me.’
Nasreen screwed her eyes shut, willing herself not to shout. ‘Sure.’
‘Look!’ Freddie thrust her phone at her again. ‘Recognise anyone?’
Chips let out a sigh. ‘Still no answer.’
Nasreen took the phone. It was a video. A young, slim girl with blonde hair and quite a lot of make-up – false eyelashes, red lipstick – was talking to the camera in an animated way. Behind her was a bookcase strung with fairy lights. ‘What is this?’
‘A vlog,’ said Freddie. She felt like she’d seen the girl in the video before. ‘It’s Gracie Williams.’
Chips joined them. ‘She’s the spit of Lorna.’
That’s who she reminded her of: their receptionist.
‘Lorna is Gracie Williams.’ Freddie stabbed the screen with her finger.
‘What?’ Nasreen and Chips said at the same time.
‘Look at this.’ Freddie took the phone back and froze on a shot of Gracie Williams squeezing her boobs in what Nasreen assumed was a playful, flirtatious manner. Lorna would never do that. ‘Recognise that?’ Freddie zoomed in on the freeze frame of the girl’s hand. On her right hand was a large jade and gold ring.
‘So? They look alike and they own similar rings?’ Nasreen’s throat felt dry.
‘Not similar,’ said Freddie. ‘It’s unique. It was gifted to her after she hit two million viewers. A jewellery house made it for her specially.’
‘I’m in the wrong game,’ said Chips.
‘She did a whole post about it.’
Freddie flicked between screens and pressed play on another video, turning up the sound. There was Lorna, all blonde hair and make-up, bubbly and loud, talking to the camera: ‘Shout out to the amaze Klass Jewels for this beaut of a ring. They said one of a kind for a one-of-a-kind vlogger! Sweet. Thanks, guys!’
Peppy, thought Nasreen. The dryness spread to her mouth.
‘I’m not seeing the problem,’ Chips said. Nasreen’s mind was whirring. Lorna had changed her hair colour. Worn minimal make-up, almost retro clothing – completely different from the overt, cutting-edge style she wore in the videos. She spoke quietly, barely making eye contact. She was as quiet as a mouse. And moved around just as freely. Unnoticed.
‘She’s loaded,’ Freddie said. ‘Made a fortune from advertising and stuff. Look, here’s a Daily Mail article on her house in Dulwich. It cost £1.2 million.’ Chips took the phone, frowning.
How many times had Lorna used the ladies’ at the same time as her? What about when they were at the pub? Had Nasreen ever left her handbag by the sink while she was in the cubicle? Had her phone been in her bag? ‘So why the hell is she working in a minimum-wage admin job?’
Nasreen picked up her receiver then put it down. What was the best way to handle this? ‘You’re thinking she’s our leak?’
‘What’s she even still doing here – it’s gone two in the morning,’ Freddie said.
‘She was asked to stay late because of the press outside,’ Chips said. ‘An email went round.’ Nas had seen that but skipped straight over it. It wasn’t high on her list of priorities.
‘Who sent it?’ Freddie asked.
‘Lorna did. It said she’d been asked to stay on …’ His voice shifted. She saw the idea take hold. ‘Oh Christ. Does she have any known links to Alex Black? We need to get onto tech about this straight away. Jesus, she’s been in here: in the office!’
‘She’s been everywhere in the building,’ said Nasreen. Had she really pulled this off? Got their mobile numbers, got access to her personal email? It’d be easy for her to pass the whole building’s email addresses on – she had them on her computer, she used them for work. And then it would be easy for someone to send everyone on that list the email exchange between her and Burgone. But she must have had help.
‘She did a vlog a few months ago reaching out to the MRAs,’ Freddie said. ‘I think it was the first time I watched her: it went viral. She’d been on their sites, asked them to start a dialogue. To try and help young, disaffected men. She was trying to tackle the high suicide rate. Men between twenty and forty-nine are more likely to die from suicide than anything else in this country.’ She shrugged. ‘The MRAs are dicks, but they’re also a symptom of a wider problem. They’ve just got their wires crossed: they think feminism is the issue, when it’s the solution. The current system is failing young men as well.’
‘Alex Black could have met Lorna on the MRA site? Somehow convinced the wee lass to do … this?’ Chips said. He had YouTube open on his browser.
‘Or he’s blackmailed her?’ Nasreen suggested. ‘We know he’s capable of lifting information from other people’s servers.’
Black was capable of many things. The level of detail that had gone into this was extraordinary. If Black had persuaded Lorna to give him information, who knew what he could do. The thought that this could be the Hashtag Murderer reared again.
‘Perhaps he’s got photos the lass doesn’t want seen? We need to tread carefully. We don’t want her doing a runner.’
‘It’s like Cynthia Warner said: he inspires obsession,’ Freddie said. ‘She might be loony tunes.’
‘She could know who Alex Black is. Where he is.’ Nasreen felt violated. Lorna had had access to all the team’s telephone numbers. Burgone’s next-of-kin details would be listed on the HR system. A quick search and you could easily trace Lottie to him. Nasreen thought of her sisters. Her parents. The girl could have their telephone numbers as well. Bile flowered in her stomach.
‘Aye.’ Chips puffed air out his cheeks. ‘Green, dig into this Gracie Williams. See if she’s on file. Run Lorna Thompson too. See what we can get before we show our hand. Get onto her phone provider and get copies of her messages. See how she’s communicating with him. See if we can get to him that way.’
Lorna had always been friendly. All those questions about how the case was going … Had she been gathering intelligence to feed back to Black? ‘She could be updating him. Do you think that’s why she’s stayed late?’
‘Aye. So keep communication about the case verbal – make sure you’re not being overheard.’
Nasreen shivered. She felt like they were being watched. Maybe they were? She took a pad and wrote on it, passing the message to Chips: What if she’s bugged the office?
He nodded, took the pen and wrote back: Then she’ll know we’re on to her.
Nasreen took the pen and hurriedly scrawled a reply: I’ll check.
She took the back stairs – less chance of being seen. She couldn’t risk the lift alerting Lorna to her presence. Reaching the ground floor, one level above the car park, she took her shoes off. Carrying them, she walked softly out of the stairwell. The building was largely quiet, apart from their floor. She could see the press still gathered outside, only a handful now, in North Face jackets and clutching steaming takeaway coffee cups. They were doing the same thing as them: waiting, chipping away at the story. She didn’t want them to catch sight of her, bring her to the attention of Lorna. If she’d been listening in on what they’d said then Chips was right, she’d be long gone.
She walked along the edge of the wall that led from the lift, which allowed her to peer round the corner. Lorna was at her desk. She wasn’t typing, but Nas could see that her desktop was open on the live news. She was staring at Lottie’s face on the screen. Nasreen could see the ring from here. She’d been fiddling with it in the bathroom this morning. That felt like a lifetime ago. Everything had been shaken and thrown upside down since then. Did Lorna know where Lottie was? She wanted to grab her; make her talk. But Chips was right, blundering in now could cost them. So with great restraint, Nasreen headed back upstairs. This could be the first proper advantage they’d had over Black and she wasn’t going to waste it on an impetuous response. It was nearly three in the morning. Tick tock.